Closing Numbers (1993) - full transcript

[music playing]

[heavy breathing]

[woman moaning]

[woman moans]

[moans]

There was a
piece in the paper.

A man lost his job and hid it
from his wife for six months.

She only found out
when she phoned

the police to
describe the man she'd

just seen driving away her car.

KEITH: Curious post
coital conversation.



I was wondering
why we hadn't tried

these athletic postures when
we were both a bit more supple.

And it struck me,
supposedly he's

spending the rest of the
afternoon in the library

because he's lost his job.

Is this a ploy to get me
back into the office, hm?

Hm.

Not if you don't want to go.

I have to.

Of course, partners
don't lose their jobs.

Hope.

Energy.

[inaudible]

Libido.



But on the jobs, they don't
make an example for me.

I'm going to see
a client in Redby.

Again?

Not again.

Different client,
same inconvenience.

Keep me something hot.

I'll have it when I get back.

Looks like the buggers have been
cheating on their income tax.

Think I can magic
them out of it.

I can't, of course.

We're sending books to Moscow
for the parents committee.

I wanted you to pick some out.

[shower running]

KEITH: Well, don't
send any of mine.

When did you last read a book?

Come on then.

There.

Good boy.

Off you go.

Careful.

Good boy.

[child laughing]

[buzzer ringing]

Come in.

Right.

Thank you.

Peter.

You've caught me.

Not another late night.

Still got soap in your ear.

What?

See you.

Hi.

Hello.

Good day?

No.

He asked where you were.

He wants to see you.

Used to getting what
he wants, is he?

His friend said there
might not be another chance.

Chance to what?

[snoring]

Brynfield nursery.

This is the Brynfield
Nursery again.

Look, please say something,
even if it's only goodbye.

That's the third
time this morning.

Who?

Mrs.-- I'm sorry.

I think you must
have made a mistake.

Well, let's try and
correct it then, shall we?

I'll book a table.

Mad.

As nutty as a fruit cake.

A complete stranger
phones all yesterday

and can't bring
herself to speak,

then accuses me of having
an affair with her husband.

Says we ought to be civilized,
and can we meet for lunch to,

uh, discuss the situation.

I'm almost tempted to go.

Excuse me.

Are you saving this
seat for someone.

Yes.

Sorry.

It's mine.

I'm very late.

Hello.

I'm Steve.

Do you think I could
have a sip of your wine?

I'm in a bit of a state.

She sent you instead
of coming herself.

What are you, her brother?

Friend?

If it's a joke, it's
not a very good one.

It's not a joke.

I'm the person you
want to talk to.

WAITER: Would you like to
see the wine list, sir?

A bottle of dry
house white, please.

I'll order later.

You had no idea, had you?

What I mean about me.

I mean, about Keith.

I'd always assumed
wives sensed when

their husband were bisexual.

We met three months ago.

[gasps]

[crying]

He was sitting on his own
in a gay pub one lunchtime.

New face, wearing a city suit.

Apparently married.

I knew at once he
needed protecting.

From himself, if nothing else.

I recognized the look of someone
who's inches away from being

beaten up and robbed.

Actually, I'm glad you found.

Why?

I've insisted we
only do safe sex.

He has to accept that.

But not long ago, he and I
were talking about ourselves.

About the past.

Keith told me about
a promiscuous period

three years ago.

He was very down at the time.

He behaved as if the risk
of AIDS didn't exist.

And anyway, I thought that you
and he were sleeping apart.

A convenient conclusion
to jump to, I suppose.

He rang you once from my flat,
and from the way he spoke,

I guessed that you might
still be sleeping together.

Is that a question?

It is important.

More so for you, I think.

We're married.

We do make love.

Unprotected?

Two, sometimes three
afternoons a week

for the last three months.

Before that, not so often.

Nowhere near so often.

Very imaginative sex, too,
most unusual for Keith.

You should write a manual.

You're trying to tell
me I might be infected.

Two years ago, I'd
have said, what's

the point of being tested.

But now, if you
were HIV positive,

there's a lot more help.

Why should you care about me?

I'm a carer.

It's my nature.

Has it really
been three months?

And still?

When I told your
colleague I was civilized,

I didn't mean as
civilized as this.

You'll excuse me if I leave now.

Look, will you take my number?

What for, to compare notes?

Only safe sex, you said.

There's no need for guilt.

Is he?

Not until late.

No.

We won't wait supper.

Thank you, Marie.

[door opening]

[sobbing]

[screaming]

[glass breaking]

[sobbing continues]

[door opening]

[door closing]

Mom?

[crying quietly]

Mom?

Mom?

Mom?

[knocking on door]

What are you doing?

Just trying to get
things sorted out.

I'd offer to help,
but I think our methods

would be incompatible.

I just need a moment.

[sniffs]

You always look at
me when I come home.

I will in a minute.

How's that?

I was thinking of going
away for a few days.

Can you cope?

Can't even work the microwave.

I'd better stay then.

[music playing]

MAN: I must say
that I've missed you

and all your letters
and care packages.

And I'm looking forward to
getting back [inaudible]

some of your favorite
pieces of music.

So without much further ado,
here's a letter from Mrs.--

[door closing]

ANNA (ON PHONE): Is he with you?

No.

Not at the moment.

ANNA (ON PHONE):
Have you seen him?

No, I don't mean that.

I just need to know if
you've told him that we met.

No.

That's up to you.

ANNA (ON PHONE): My
son's taking the Oxford

entrance exam this term.

I can't move him.

I can't go anywhere
at the moment.

It's all rather a mess.

I don't know what to do.

Yes.

I understand.

ANNA (ON PHONE): I'm
glad one of us does.

Sorry to have bothered you.

Should have stayed.

At least for his birthday.

I always end up
doing what you want.

You're the one who
gets his own way.

[door opens]

[light switching on]

[trying doorknob]

[knocking on door]

Anna?

[knocking louder]

Anna!

Anna!

All you need to know
is I'm not leaving you.

[door slamming shut]

Aren't you going
to be late for work?

Is this what they
call unmaking house?

You've forgotten the
sweater I bought you.

[smack]

Whatever you thought you might
gain isn't going to happen.

Do you understand?

[dropping keys]

[car starting]

What are your plans
for the rest of the day?

I intend to be humored.

Oh my god.

Who's been knocking you about?

None of your business.

Two men being physical
with each other.

I won't put it any
stronger than that.

It is a violence against nature.

A man always wants a
son, if he's honest.

Waiting until he can afford
the very best for him.

And the anxiety.

Now nothing.

How did you expect
me to accept that?

He's gobbed in our faces.

Cut him out.

Make a clean break.

That's best.

That's the only way.

Did you say something?

No.

No.

I'm doing my walk down from
the very back of the stage,

the heel-licking
darkness behind me

getting deeper with each step.

And the light draws me forwards.

When I get to the footlights,
I can feel the warmth from them

creeping up my legs and
see the flesh-tinted gels

winking up at me in welcome.

Like all those white
corpses fighting off

the enemy invaders.

I can see the exit signs, the
dress circle, the balcony.

The gods packed solid
with well-hung Greeks.

I can see the gilt cherubs
cavorting among the ruby velvet

and the hundreds and hundreds
of beautiful, young, male faces

all looking up at me like
the flags of all nations.

And now the audience
is really going wild.

They're standing and
waving their arms,

cheering and whistling
and stomping their feet.

And I haven't even
opened my mouth.

Just as well.

Why?

You need more mouthwash.

[vocalizing]

[vocalizing together]

Oh, you're so dominant.

Enough.

Stop it.

I love it.

[vocalizing continues]

Well, finally the
cheering subsides.

I get the nod from
the conductor,

and just as I'm filling my dried
prune lungs to gasp out My Way,

a thought occurs to me.

That you've been fucked
stupid by your entire audience.

So.

Drum rolls.

The follow spot changing
color, blue, red, green,

amber for the final thrust.

And after the g-string
has floated out over

their heads to land on a
cherub holding up the balcony,

I wake up--

You wake up shivering with
that bloody shit stained duvet

on the floor and
a pain in the ass.

Sorry.

When?

When what?

Did I tell you?

Does it matter?

Just before we opened
our birthday cards.

ANNA: Who were they?

Men.

They were just man I
sought comfort from.

ANNA: Comfort!

That's what you were so
desperately searching for,

was it?

And you couldn't get it at home!

Look, if I knew what I wanted,
none of what you so graphically

described need have happened!

And you still need
comfort, do you?

People change.

Needs change.

Why did I lose my
home and my son because

of your sexual appetite?

Did I leave you?

Not necessarily.

Let's consider an alternative.

Might not be exactly what
you're searching for,

but it's a fair copy.

Safe sex, too.

I think you'll agree.

The assistant considered safety
a very strong selling point.

[sobbing]

For god's sake, tell me why!

Even your boyfriend is worried
you might have infected me.

You said I ought to
get myself tested.

Everyone makes
their own decisions.

Why warn me then
in the first place?

How could you decide
when you didn't know?

Salve your conscience, and
it might just pay dividends.

Who for?

For you, if I had left him.

But you haven't.

Yet.

Why did he do it?

Have you asked him?

All this talk of not
being his true self.

How the hell do you find
the meaning of life,

groping some
stranger in the dark?

You don't.

It's a strong compulsion,
and like most drugs,

it only gives temporary relief.
- From what?

One's self.

One's situation.

Sorry.

No, you're not.

You're safe.

You know more about
him than I do,

and you were clever enough
to protect yourself.

Why should you be sorry?

He isn't even your
problem any more, is he?

Is he still yours?

Oh, yes.

I think so.

Don't you?

It may have been only
a registry office,

but I agreed to every word.

It was-- it was an
informed decision.

Now I need to know
that-- I have to know.

I'm just so frightened.

MAN: Up and down.

Keep breathing.

[inaudible] That's it.

There's a whole world of
new experience out there,

just waiting, foot
rot being one of them.

You have to be careful.

How many lessons have you had?

Only three so far.

I keep scraping my
toe on the bottom.

Well, they won't let
us into the deep end

until they're quite
sure we can float.

Everything all right?

Yes.

Yes, of course.

Then what are you doing here?

It isn't my birthday.

Certainly isn't Christmas.

I just wanted to see you.

Nothing special.
- Peter working hard?

Keith behaving himself?

What makes you ask that?

Just the way you
look, as if you're

about to burst into tears.

You can if you want.

No one will notice in here.

The chlorine makes
all their eyes smart.

ANNA: I thought I might
visit Mum's grave.

Isn't that what people do when
they've been given bad news?

Visit aging parent.

Retrace their steps
back to the womb.

Take a look at
where they've come

from before they
settle themselves

to where they're going.

I haven't got a womb.
More's the pity.

Always wanted one.

Womb envy isn't fashionable.

It's not lumps, then?

No, of course not.

You have regular checks,
sensible girl like you.

No breast lumps?

Hm.

Another woman, perhaps?

Accountacy is so lucrative,
he's keeping two families?

Dad, why can't you just
enjoy the fact that I'm here?

You get rid of
that haunted look,

and I'll enjoy its replacement.

It's important for you to
feel you'll be able to cope

should the result be positive.

Can anyone be sure of that?

No.

But you should have
time to think about it.

I thought you wanted
people to be tested.

We don't want people
to rush into it.

I'm not rushing, believe me.

Do you have children?

One son.

He's 18.

Why do you believe you
may have been at risk?

My husband had unsafe
sex three years ago.

Now will you please just
take a blood sample?

Is he also going to be tested?

Have you discussed it?

He had sex with men.

Quite a lot of men.

I don't have a total.

It went on over a period
of about six months,

and included unprotected
anal sex with enough men

to have caught the
virus many times.

Since then, he and I
have had unprotected sex,

also many times.

Anna, please.

Don't stay in here
again tonight.

Don't upset Peter.

Look, with his entrance
exam so close--

Don't upset Peter?

Have you been for the test?

When?

When will you know?

In about 10 days.

If I go back for it.

You mean you
might not go back?

Most probably I will.

Unless--

How do you know who to approach?

How do you avoid propositioning
someone who isn't gay?

Someone who might turn
nasty and beat you up?

Most of the time, I
wait until I'm approached.

It's easier to be
generous or demanding

when-- when you're anonymous.

Not being judged.

There are very few words,
and the hollow feeling

goes away for a little while.

But Steve was different.

He was just someone who
reminded me of a friend

at school.

Someone who looked after me.

I used to think I was
rather good at that.

I go with another man in
the dark, in-- in a toilet,

wherever, it's just as much me.

It's part of me.

Mike, the man
who counseled me,

said he'd be happy to
see you at any time.

No obligation.

Just to chat.

What do you think about it?

But then if you wait
and I test positive,

there'll be no need for you
to think about it, will there?

[door opens, closes]

Don't go.

I've decided.

I don't understand you.

You understanding
isn't important anymore.

Your love, if you had any,
might have been a help.

I'll see you later.

Hello?

It's Anna.

Steve said he'd mentioned me.

He said you'd be expecting me.

It it all right to come in?

Hello?

This is all I have.

Please take it,
and do not use gas.

Sorry?

James Thurber, The
Night the Bed Fell.

Steve said you wouldn't
mind my dropping by.

I thought he was at least
going to introduce us.

It's better like this.

Me Jim.

Anna.

Minus your banner.

Take a pew.

Well, I'll show you mine
if you'll show me yours.

Is he yours?

I'm not into
possessions anymore.

Are you?

I meant I'd show you my life.

That was part of it.

Me at 19.

I'm sorry.

Why?

Who would want to be 19 again,
with all those hormones.

Having to fight people off.

Now I get the
unemployed scaffolder

next door to come in once
a fortnight for a hand job.

That was my hell freak period.

Lasted almost until Brian died.

[gasps]

Buzzing.

Buzzing.

Christ.

What should I do?

What's wrong?

It's a-- it's a
sudden-- sudden surge

of drugs through the veins.

Happens sometimes.

Scares the hell out of me.

Oh, Christ!

Sorry.

Here.

There is no warning,
and I never know when.

It'll pass.

You'll be all right.

Dark, oh, shit.

I'm really frightened.

Wha-- wha-- what-- what I'm
suppose-- what I'm supposed

to do to stop the fear.

I'm supposed to visualize it
waking up whole macho T cells.

All four of them.

Can you name them?

What?

Give them names, the T cells.

Then you'll be able to see them.

No.
No.

I can't.

Cause they're just-- they're
just dots in your blood,

tiny tadpole things.

Try.

Macho, you said.

What-- what humans are macho?

Make them human.

Uh, uh, do-- Ameri--
American life guards.

Good.

Doing press ups?

No.

No.

They're-- they're writing
Mother's Day cards.

Theodore's got black, curly
hair and eyelashes I'd kill for.

Ty-- Tyrone's blonde, with
a palm tree of chest hair.

And who are the other two?

Uh, Tobias, Torquil,
Two Ton Tennessee.

That's five.

You've been holding out on me.

Better?

Passing-- it's
just passing off now.

Thanks.

Now that we've been formally
introduced, how about me

making us both some coffee?

In-- in a minute.

I just want to make
sure it's all gone.

Where's your mother, Jim?

I don't see her often.

She thinks I'm a slut.

[bell ringing]

- What's wrong, Mum?
- This is.

Is he waiting
in the park again?

What's in the case?

I've come to stay
until you're better.

Do you know how
to protect yourself?

I can learn.

Look at this!

It's so bloody dishonest.

It just reinforces
prejudice against people

who actually have AIDS.

Them and us.

Them queers and drug users.

Irene, would you be kind and
get Mrs. Reynolds a cup of tea.

It's an attempt to
frighten teenagers

away from sex altogether!

The light's so low I can
hardly see what I brought.

Did you tell him
what I look like?

How could I?

I've only ever seen you
in the dark before today.

What did you tell him?

That you'd lost
a lot of weight.

And the lesions?

I didn't mention those.

Or that I was
forgetting things?

Dementing.

Are you?

I didn't know about that.

You seem all right to me.

You think if he knew that I'm
also going blind he might come?

While I can still see him.

[MUSIC - TOM ROBINSON BAND,
"GLAD TO BE GAY"]

[door opening, closing]

Thanks.

Hello.

Hi.

I thought you didn't
like this place.

I guessed you'd be here.

I wanted to say I'm sorry.

Look, I don't know what
I'm doing, where I'm going,

or anything.

I don't need a death sentence
[inaudible] should worry.

What did you really
come here for, ay?

What do you want from me?
- Nothing.

I don't want anything.
- Yes, you do.

You want me to comfort you.

Be gentle, kind, understanding.

You want me to tell you that
it's all right to be scared.

Is that such a terrible thing?

I'm not Anna.

And I'm not a fucking saint.

I don't need to understand
you or even like you.

I don't think you'd find
my pity very helpful.

Back at 17.

Off to London every day.

You told me once about the
girls you traveled with.

Working girls, you
called them, didn't you?

I was very slow to catch
on to what they worked at.

Little devil.

Claimed London was the
only place he'd find

the reference books he needed.

I used to come across the odd
exercise book and drawings

that he drew.

What with him not having got
into college or anything,

we didn't take it seriously.

I suppose I didn't want
to think about what

you were really doing.

Why don't you ask him?

No point now, is there?

Best not to know
about such things.

What about Over the Rainbow?

Cliche.

There's a Mozart Mass in
d-minor I'm rather fond of,

but it's too long.

Never forget the three
minute attention span.

The home help may want
to visit less often if she

knows you're going to stay.

It might be best not
to be too specific

till we see how things go.

I-- I thought he
was on his own here,

apart from one or two friends.

He's not going to let on how
pleased he is you came, Mary.

Not yet.

Got it!

Got what?

Closing Number.

I saw it on a documentary.

Terry, his name was.

At the end, when the coffin
slides past a little curtain,

we'll have a hand in
a black glove-- elbow

length with a diamante
bracelet-- come back

through the curtain
and wave goodbye.

What do you think?

How did he get
what-- what he's got?

Like anyone gets it.

By being unlucky.

Steve, I've got
this great idea.

I've got this great
idea for the program.

What program?

Not now, Jim.

Later, OK?

I've changed my mind
about the closing number.

Tell him about it later.

No, now.

He has to remember.

We're talking about
my funeral service.

Cremation.

I don't want to be buried.

It's too claggy.

STEVE: One thing at a time, Jim.

What's the matter with you?

It's no big deal.

Gran did it.

Don't you remember?

It's exactly what me Gran did.

Yes.

That's right.

When she knew that they
couldn't [inaudible],

she chose all her own hymns.

Right.

Well, I'm doing the same,
except it won't all be hymns.

Right at the end, we'll have
this black diamante glove--

No.

No.

Great idea.

But no.

Oh, well.

Back to the drawing board.

Can't win them all.

[crying]

It's time.

Well, I want to be early.

Wish me luck.

Good luck, darling.

I'll come out with you.

Well, you'll be all right.

I promise.

I just know.
- And you?

Is-- what about you two?

Oh, we'll be all right.

Nothing to worry about.

Yeah.

See you.

You're really going
for result today?

This afternoon.

What about Peter [inaudible]?

Peter's got nothing
to do with it.

He doesn't know, and he won't.

Steve said he'd drive me.

Can't you drive yourself?

Which was stronger,
your need to be

married or wanting to marry me?

I love you.

Still do.

I wasn't sure
about love at first.

Shy.

Lonely.

Brought up in a close, loving
family, and out of my element.

Do you remember how we made
a joke about my fear of sex?

I knew I was wrong to marry
without being in love, you see.

The guilt. All the bloody guilt.

And then when Peter
was born, and you

were such a good father.

Still are.

And the three of
us were so close.

I loved you for that.

And for the sex, too, of course,
after I learned to enjoy it.

It was wonderful.

And all thanks to
your gentleness.

your patience.

When we found I couldn't
have any more after Peter,

it was our problem.

We faced it together.

We faced most things
together in the beginning.

Do you remember?

I don't know what's
happened to that.

[door opens]

[door opens]

Wish me luck.

[door closes]

[music playing]

[knocking on window]

Hello.
Come in.

Take a seat.

[honking]

MAN (ON INTERCOM):
Good afternoon,

ladies and gentlemen.

The buffet car is now open.

We have a wide selection
of freshly made sandwiches,

cakes and biscuits, teas,
coffees, hot chocolates,

and [inaudible].

You've kicked him
out, haven't you?

ANNA: No.

He wouldn't just take off
like that without a word.

Not now.

Not when I'm in the
middle of all this.

ANNA: It's too
complicated to explain.

Look, I'm not a child!

Look at it!

This is me.

This is all I'm allowed,
all I'm good for.

Passing bloody exams to
make my parents proud.

But of course, I'm not
going to pass, am I?

[crying] I can't-- I can't
remember a bloody thing!

10 Days ago, I
was tested for HIV.

He left because I was
getting the result today.

What are you on about?

Three years ago, he
put himself at risk.

One night stands.

Anonymous sex in lavatories.

That kind of thing.

Now he's out there
somewhere, too scared

to be tested and convinced
that we're both HIV positive.

I am sorry.

I had hoped you
wouldn't have to know.

I don't believe a word of it.

You're just a
filthy-minded, lying bitch.

[door slams]

[moaning]

[heavy breathing]

[squeaking]

Can I help you?

This was my school.

Really?

I'm an old boy, Reynolds,
Allenby House, '64 to '69.

Good.

Excellent.

Well, if you'll excuse me.

What do you teach?

Communications studies.

We didn't have that.

[door rattling, opening]

Shall I go and look for him?

He's 18.

He's making a gesture.

He'll be back.

[door opening]

So much for Oxford.

Isn't it rather futile,
punishing someone

who isn't around to be hurt?

How do you know
who I'm punishing?

I could have covered for you.

I could have said you were ill
and hadn't had time to phone

the school.

As it was, I didn't
know what to say.

When have you ever?

[sighs].

BOY: You mustn't cry.

It's not the end of the world.

Not if you like someone.

No one is going
to know, are they?

You mustn't tell.

Anyone.

Ever.

No one must ever
know what we did.

Promise?

The postmark is Yeovil.

It's near where
he went to school.

I could find him.

Bring him home.

How would you find him?

He could be anywhere.

Mark an area on the map
and just keep looking.

You're right to go.

Steve might drive you.

My test was
negative, by the way.

But not conclusive.

It has to be done again in
three months to be sure.

Always remember
that he dumped me.

That being jealous of something
after the event is obsessive.

Did you think I'd have
two heads or something?

No.

I knew that one would
be more than sufficient.

I was simply wondering what
you and Dad talked about.

If he was here
now, I expect we'd

be discussing what a bloody
fool you were to throw

away the chance of Oxford.

The whole of life isn't going to
stop because of this, you know.

[inaudible].

GIRL: Mom.

Mom.

Mom.

Keeley, wait a minute.

I'm talking.

Now, stand there.

Sorry, [inaudible].

Never guess you
would [inaudible].

- Emma.
- Emma?

Yeah, Emma Davis.

[inaudible].

She used to be in
my class at school.

Sit at the back. [inaudible].

- No!
- Yeah.

You are joking.

I couldn't believe it
myself, but I know [inaudible].

Yes. [inaudible].

Oh, yeah.

[inaudible].

Oh, yeah.

Everyone's [inaudible].

She was pregnant before
he met [inaudible].

[sniffs]

[coughs]

[coughing continues]

Oh, my god!

[inaudible]

Oh, Jim!

Oh!

What's he got?

Tell me!

What's he ill with?

Are you all right?

You better tell me what's
the matter with him.

He He shouldn't be
allowed out, you know.

It's disgusting.

Just look at him.

You should keep him indoors!

[phone ringing]

[ringing continues]

STEVE (ON ANSWERING
MACHINE): Hi.

This is Steve.

I'm not here at the moment.

Please leave a message.

Thanks for bringing me.

Any time.

Now, we're going to have
to replace all nourishment

you wasted in that shop.

Just a little liquid then, hey?

Something for the
T cell boys, stuck

out there in all that heat.

Something for Steve.

How about your mother, then?

I know what you're holding
out for, you bastard.

You want to see a
middle-class housewife beg.

Dad.

You won't get rid of
me as easy as that.

Where are you living?

Peter, please, go home.

Can't.

No transport.

Catch a bus or take
the train from Yeovil.

Not unless you come with me.

At least talk about it.

I deserve that much, surely.

I can't explain
anything to you.

I haven't asked you to.

That's not what I want.

Please.

Show me where you're staying.

I'm just going to
put the belts on you,

Jim, keep you nice and safe.

You just bring what he'll
need and don't worry.

We've had lots of practice
getting him out of here.

All right, Jim.

We're going to take you
down to the ambulance now.

KEITH: Everything
seemed so vivid.

Leaning against the school wall,
waiting to be asked to join in.

If you feel cold, we
could light a fire.

I'm not cold.

He always laughed a lot.

Found ordinary things funny.

The attraction of
opposites, really.

He was good at most
subjects, except maths.

Sports, too.

He always liked team games.

Tough and confident.

I admired that.

Almost a year older, and
wanted to protect me.

His body was so warm.

I felt cold badly in those days.

Even in the summer.

During holidays
I wore two vests.

Kept a squash ball he'd
given in my trouser pocket,

turning it over and over and
digging my fingernails into it.

Sad, guilty child,
counting off the days.

In the end, it doesn't
matter who you love, does it?

The only important thing
is to be capable of it.

You sure you don't feel cold?

No, I don't.

I'm really quite warm.

You're coming home with
me now, aren't you?

[phone ringing]

[ringing continues]

[dog barking]

[music playing]

I'm sorry.

He left you a message.

He says if you wear that old,
green jacket to the funeral,

he'll come back and haunt you.

[curtains opening]

[curtains opening]

Satisfied?

You thought he was a
prostitute, didn't you?

Well, when he came to
London, he was studying

at the reference libraries.

Steve told me.

Wouldn't have
mattered what he was.

[music playing]

Look at all these people.

I've applied to
be a volunteer.

I might have offered my
services to the Samaritans

or the Citizens Advice Bureau,
but I think I've discovered

a way to please my son.

Pathetic, really, but
one must have something.

If you want to be part
of this family again,

then you must be tested.

[door opening]

[door closing]

You have all been at
risk of HIV infection

at some point in your lives,
but you haven't really

taken it seriously.

Either you've noticed more
about HIV and AIDS in the media,

and you've been
thinking about it

more over the past few months
because you've been having

little unexplained illnesses.

They've been getting
more frequent,

and your doctor
can't explain why.

So you start to worry about HIV.

So you go to a local
clinic, discuss it further,

and the doctor takes
some of your blood.

The ask you to come back in
about a week for the result.

So you wait.

And it's the longest
wait of your life.

Finally, you go
back for the result.

The doctor sits you down
and says, I'm sorry.

It's positive.

I couldn't get used
to coming second.

I hated him sometimes.

Often.

I have to say that.

But I never wanted his death.

I never wished for that.

I think you did, Frank.

It doesn't matter now.

You get into the habit of
checking yourself out, looking

for anything that
might be unusual to try

and keep on top of any problems
of opportunistic infections.

Then one day, you
notice a small lesion.

It might be on the
back of your leg.

Perhaps on your trunk.

Kaposi's sarcoma on its own is
rarely a direct cause of death,

not like pneumonia or a
viral infection that might

affect your eyes or your brain.

But it is a very
visible condition.

Everyone will know.

The small blotches get bigger.

In time, months, perhaps years,
you may have as many as three

or four hundred lesions.

Look into your
mirrors now, please.

And consider these questions.

[music playing]

How do I feel?

Who can I tell?

What do I want?

[music continues]